


Take a Load Off Misha

by earth_dragon



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earth_dragon/pseuds/earth_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha (and his mother) have a terrible day. Jensen finds a way to make it a little bit better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Load Off Misha

**Author's Note:**

> profoundsoulmates over on Tumblr wanted a fic in which Jensen sang to Misha over the phone. I went a bit more angsty than I originally thought I would, but the end is still fluffy and sweet. Obviously the song lyrics don't belong to me, I just found them on the interwebs. BTW, if you haven't heard Jensen singing this song, you should definitely check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FH6-99xPP7M

Jensen doesn’t think he has ever seen Misha like this before.

 

Generally speaking, Misha is one of the most even tempered people Jensen has ever known. Misha is human, of course, and sometimes he gets disgruntled, occasionally upset, rarely mad. But it takes something incredibly deep and hard-hitting for Misha to become truly angry.

 

But right now, Misha is in a rage.

 

He’s not speaking, he’s too emotional to speak; but he’s shaking, and his fists are clenched, and there are bright tears standing in his blue eyes. Jensen has never seen anything like this come from Misha before and he doesn’t know what to do. It scares him. Right now Misha scares him because he looks like he could beat someone to death with a crowbar, or break down sobbing, possibly both.

 

Jensen wants to reach out to him; he wants to ask about what has happened. Is someone sick or injured? Has someone or something been attacked? What words or deeds could have ever brought Misha to this point? Jensen desperately wants to know, and he wants to make it better. But the very air around Misha is crackling with fire and energy and he doesn’t dare reach out.

 

Perhaps something in Misha senses this, even through the haze of rage, and he turns not to look at Jensen exactly, but past him, through him. His voice is hollow when he speaks.

 

“I have to go now. I’m sorry we can’t get together tonight as we planned. I’ll talk to you later Jensen.”

 

The words are not a surprise but they still manage to punch Jensen in the gut. “Al -- allright,” he stutters out in reply. “I’ll call you later.”

 

Misha doesn’t answer, he just turns around and walks off, still visibly shaking and breathing hard.

 

Jensen is left alone, watching Misha walk away, still wondering what happened, and praying that everything will okay.

 

~~*~~

 

Jensen does his best to contend himself with a restless night. He makes supper, but then he just picks at his food. He tries to watch some TV, but he can’t concentrate on any of the shows. He decides to go to bed, but he only tosses and turns.

 

And worries. Oh, he worries.

 

He said he would call Misha later but he hadn’t had the nerve. He didn’t want to intrude on whatever may have been going on, and if Misha needed time to himself, Jensen was going to give it him.

 

He hoped Misha was asleep by now. It was so rare for Misha to be that shaken, upset, and he knew it had to be emotionally taxing. No one could sustain that level of rage for very long without falling apart. He just prayed that Misha didn’t get hurt or hurt anyone else.

 

Giving it up as a lost cause, Jensen finally rose from the bed and padded down the hallway back to the living room. He was so restless and he couldn’t get his mind to focus. When all else failed, his guitar would soothe him, so he picked the instrument up and strummed a simple chord. Music filled the air and Jensen felt the knot in his chest loosen just the tiniest bit.

 

He sat in the floor in front of his huge bay windows, just strumming gentle tunes for an hour when he heard his phone chirp, signalling a new text message. He all but threw the guitar down so he could scramble to his feet. No one would be texting him in the middle of the night unless there was a problem, an emergency, unless someone needed him.

 

Unless Misha needed him.

 

He unlocked his phone and pulled up the new text, from Misha: “Pls call me. I need 2 hear ur voice”.

 

Jensen immediately brought up his contacts and dialed Misha’s number. It didn’t even get through a complete ring before it was answered. “Hey… Jen.”

 

“Misha. Hi.”

 

“Did I wake you?”

 

“No, I wasn’t sleeping.”

 

“What were you doing?”

 

“Playing my guitar,” Jensen answered. Misha’s voice sounded so tired, so wrung out, sad. “Are you ok Misha?”

 

“Yes,” Misha answered, but then he paused. “No. No, I’m really not.”

 

Jensen began to scan the room for his shoes. He mentally calculated how long it would take for him to get to Misha’s apartment. “Do you need me to come over? Are you at home?”

 

“No, I’m in Boston.”

 

“Boston?”

 

 

“Yeah, I’m with my mother.”

 

Misha took a deep, shaky breath and Jensen could tell he was trying so hard to hold himself together. He just wanted more than anything to be there with him. “Misha what happened? Please tell me what happened?”

 

“A man broke into my mother’s house. She wasn’t home at the time, but she came home and he was still there.”

 

Jensen flopped down onto his couch, is gut twisting into a painful knot. Words began flying out of his mouth. “Oh God! Oh God, no! What happened? Is she ok? Is she --”

 

“Jensen please,” Misha interrupted him. “Please, I can’t take anyone else’s panic right now. Please.”

 

Jensen held silent for a moment. He hadn’t meant to sound panicked, it was just a natural reaction to hearing such news. But of course that was the last thing Misha needed right now. He took a calming breath before speaking again. “Sorry. I’m sorry Misha. I didn’t mean to.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Please tell me she’s ok!”

 

“She has a bad concussion,” Misha answered him. “The guy realized she had come back home and he bolted out the front door. He shoved her down the front porch steps as he ran. She smashed her head on the concrete. Some of the neighbors saw and called 911, stayed with her until police and ambulance got there.”

 

“I’m glad she has good neighbors,” Jensen said, trying to keep his cool. No wonder Misha had been so enraged; his mother had been attacked, injured, her home broken into. And he hadn’t even technically been in the same country when it happened.

 

“Me too. We’re at the hospital now. She’s being watched for at least 24 hours while they run tests, do observation. She’s having a scan right now.”

 

“Is your brother there with you?”

 

“Yeah, Sasha’s here.”

 

“Good,” Jensen sighed. “Good.” The last thing he wanted was for Misha to be in Boston alone and having to deal with seeing his mother in such a state.

 

“Mom’ll be fine, it’s just gonna take some time. But she’s nervous about being at the house now. I can’t blame her. Me and Sasha are gonna install new locks and have a security system put in.”

 

“Yeah, that’s definitely a good idea.”

 

“I’m so tired Jensen.”

 

Misha sounded it. He sounded like he was barely holding up. He was scared, and upset, and still so angry, and he had every right be. Jensen would have given anything if he could have been there for him.

 

“I miss you.”

 

Jensen closed his eyes tight against the sting of tears. “I miss you too, baby. You know I’d be there if I could.”

 

“I’ve only got about ten more minutes or so and then I need to go. I just needed to hear your voice.”

 

Jensen glanced down to the abandoned guitar still lying in floor. When he needed soothing, he always turned to his music. It never failed. A tiny smile curled his lips. “Misha, give me one second, ok.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Jensen pulled the guitar back up into his lap, put the phone on speaker, and set it aside. “Can you still hear me?”

 

“Yeah, what are you doing?”

 

I was playing the guitar when I got your text. I still have it here with me.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Jensen tuned a string just a bit and then strummed a chord. “I know you don’t have much time left, so just listen, ok. You said you wanted to hear me. I love you and I’ll talk to you again soon, ok. This is for you, baby.”

 

The Weight was one of Misha’s favorite songs of all time and Jensen knew it by heart, and when his soft chords and mellow voice lifted into the air to carry across the phone, Jensen could just barely hear Misha on the other end, sniffling a bit, but echoing him.

  
  


_I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead_

_I just need some place where I can lay my head_

_"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"_

_He just grinned and shook my hand, "no" was all he said_

_Take a load off, Fanny_

_Take a load for free_

_Take a load off, Fanny_

_And (and) (and) you put the load right on me_

_(You put the load right on me)_

 

_I picked up my bag, I went lookin' for a place to hide_

_When I saw Carmen and the Devil walkin' side by side_

_I said, "Hey, Carmen, come on let's go downtown"_

_She said, "I gotta go but my friend can stick around"_

_Take a load off, Fanny_

_Take a load for free_

_Take a load off, Fanny_

_And (and) (and) you put the load right on me_

_(You put the load right on me)_

_Go down, Miss Moses, there's nothin' you can say_

_It's just ol' Luke and Luke's waitin' on the Judgment Day_

_"Well, Luke, my friend, what about young Anna Lee?"_

_He said, "Do me a favor, son, won't you stay and keep Anna Lee company?"_

_Take a load off, Fanny_

_Take a load for free_

_Take a load off, Fanny_

_And (and) (and) you put the load right on me_

_(You put the load right on me)_

_Crazy Chester followed me and he caught me in the fog_

_He said, "I will fix your rack if you'll take Jack, my dog"_

_I said, "Wait a minute, Chester, you know I'm a peaceful man"_

_He said, "That's okay, boy, won't you feed him when you can"_

_Yeah, take a load off, Fanny_

_Take a load for free_

_Take a load off, Fanny_

_And (and) (and) you put the load right on me_

_(You put the load right on me)_

_Catch a cannon ball now to take me down the line_

_My bag is sinkin' low and I do believe it's time_

_To get back to Miss Fanny, you know she's the only one_

_Who sent me here with her regards for everyone_

_Take a load off, Fanny_

_Take a load for free_

_Take a load off, Fanny_

_And (and) (and) you put the load right on me_

_(You put the load right on me)_


End file.
